Cala Lillies are the dependable presence each spring in my overgrown garden. Their white, architectural curves opening from the straight, green shoots add spots of brightness to the various corners of the yard they inhabit of their own accord. 

But it is the hellibore that speaks to me most emphatically of renewal each spring. I take note of the spikey leaves growing too big and brittle during the fall as I walk from my back steps to studio each day, and then stop noticing it altogether during the wet winter as it disappears. But in spring it surprises me. I noticed the new bush today, with its full crop of young heads, bowed, showing just the outside blush of their lavender petals with delicate veins of deep purple mixing with pale green. To see the full flower one must bend down and lift up the blossom as if lifting the chin of a teen-ager and saying “here, show me your wonderfulness that you are so reticent to present to the world.”

Blog to Facebook

Could it be this blog has outlived its relevance and optimum life as a forum for updates on my studio and general thoughts? My limited resources are perhaps better spent keeping my Beach: A Book of Treasure Facebook Page active and interesting.  I would rather put the thoughtful design energy into my e-mail newsletter (despite it being relatively sporadic) and the books themselves, while Facebook can post the more spontaneous thoughts and comings and goings of the studio.  I welcome feedback from my readers on this transition either here or on Facebook.

Our current state of affairs -- with zillions of platforms for communicating on -- is not conducive to "paring down," but this advice is never out of fashion. With limited time resources I am slowly winnowing down to a system I think best fits the material.  Of course this is liable to change at any instance.  (somehow I feel like I have been here before...)

The Work Table

My Studio Worktable at work

I have been receiving items from a wonderful array of sea glass lovers to put to work for my next little book.  I went to visit Katie Carron in Walnut Creek on a foggy and mysterious day.  I arrived at her boyfriend's house and there, laid out on his dining room table, was her entire collection of seaglass -- two hundred pounds -- sorted by color.  It was spectacular. Much of it is from a beach in England below a long-shuttered glass factory.  Many of the shards are the discard from the "end-of-day glass" the workers were given to do whatever they wanted with.  I could not resist the yellow:

Coralline Algae

As a native Easterner most often on Western beaches, I am fascinated by the delicate bony seaweed that is so commonly found strewn along the wrack line of the rough and tumble beaches of Northern California.  This is the articulated coralline red algae.  When alive, its joints -- the flexible, noncalcified genicula ("knee" in latin) --  bend with the tidal flow.  When dry, however, coralline algae is delicate and breaks easily into its calcified pieces.

The Power of Love

I received a mysterious e-mail the other day from a reader of my Heart Stones book named Jill.  She mentioned a miracle she wanted to relay to me.  I waited and waited and then finally received the story of her heart stones.  I include it here because it is inspiring and hopeful.  It also makes me realize the importance of opening up eyes and hearts to looking around us...really looking and paying attention. This can run the gamut from how we notice the stones at our feet, the hearts in our dogfood (a follow up e-mail informed me that Jill had just received her first "dogfood heart") to how we think and react to news or events. This is Jill's story:

 In the fall of 2009, an opportunity opened up for me to go to a new school and teach art again.  I was hired on a Friday and started that following Monday.  This school was a challenge for me.  I had only taught in a wealthy area before where the students had everything materialistic they could ask for and most came from happy healthy homes. My new school was low income, Title 1 school.  Many parents were in jail and education was not a priority to many.  Many of my students were homeless, living in shelters and 75% of the school was on free lunch.  I saw behavior I was not accustomed to.  What I learned was that these children needed love more than anything else. 

    I shared my collection of heart rocks with my students, telling them that there is love all over, all you have to do is look.  The next day, to my surprise my students began to bring me heart rocks.   They would pull them out of their pockets and backpacks and tell me  where they found them. Instead of keeping the rocks for themselves , they would give them to me.  Soon they came in in bags, buckets, old McDonalds wrappers, anything they could find to bring in the heart rocks.  This became an afterschool activity for them.

    On the last day of school, my student named Stormy, a little kindergarten girl, who was bald (mom shaved her head because she had lice) brought me the biggest heart rock ever.  My tiniest student brought me the biggest heart rock.  We painted it hot pink, and it now is in the collection outside of my art room door.

     The heart rocks continue to pour in everyday.  I put the children's name on the hearts and display them in the window sill.  Our count so far is 880 heart rocks.

My students have learned the act of giving.  It gives them something to do and something to hope for when times are tough for them. They have learned that a gift can be free and they don't need to "buy" anything at the store to make someone happy.  The joy in their faces is indescribable when they run to me with their new found heart rocks. They feel loved and special just holding a rock.

    This is a story about hope, inspiration, and miracles. 

What more need be said.

BARDO

Bardo is what I call this place of hanging--in between projects, in between knowing what will come and what won't, in between the kids being self sufficient and needing plenty of assistance.  It is a floating uncertainty that can feel extremely uncomfortable.  It takes concerted patience and humor for this state to feel ok to me.

Bardo is from the Tibetan words "bar" meaning in between and "do" meaning island or marking point.  I certainly am in between islands, making the journey by small rowboat.  Perhaps I am a stuck in an eddy right this moment.

Remembering July

July 14, 2010 Fox Island Thoroughfare, 7:15 am, tide -1.57 feet

I was out at the Dumplings this morning at the turn of the tide.  The moment hung there in the raking light, neither coming nor going.  The mudflats hissed gently and ducks gaggled on the exposed rocks.  The wind tried to fill in from the bay but the tide said, "let's wait a bit."  The day was on hold; the water was flat as steel and the seaweed silently draped. Everything waited. I walked around the tiny island almost holding my breath.  When I returned to where I had begun, my little boat was exactly as I had left it on the muddy shore, half in the water and half on the beach.

I rowed back to the dock and by the time I got there the day had begun.  A whaler buzzed, the wind had filled in and the ferry went by.

the plastic scourge

Yesterday I spent a chunk of the afternoon cleaning up my street.  Our hill is too steep for the street cleaners to dare come up or down, so trash collects.  I started at the bottom corner of Castro where a pink plastic bag of trash has been sitting for days getting closer and closer to the storm drain.  As I approached with my rubber gloves, trash bag and robo-tongs (a delightful holdout from Coastal Clean-up day) I noticed that wedged between the bars of the drain, almost pushed through, was a flattened plastic water bottle.  Despite being an ardent foe of plastic water bottles in principle, I have always, in my heart, been somewhat incredulous that they actually get into the storm drains and thus into our waterways and oceans.  But here it was...happening.  I carefully plucked the bottle by its neck out from between the drain grid, careful not to push it through and be lost to pollute our oceans. 

As well as picking up along our beaches, it is equally important to pick up in our neighborhoods and everywhere we are.  Keep plastic out of the drains! The current issue of the New Yorker has a fascinating article on plastics and their environmental consequences.  

Feather Boa Kelp Bladder

This small air bladder is from a feather boa kelp.  Air bladders (of varying sizes) are particular to the brown algae family; they are instrumental in keeping the seaweed blades closer to the surface for better access to light and thus better ability to photosynthesize.   Isn't it adorable!

Acid Kelp, Princeton-by-the-Sea April 21, tide: -.03

It felt like a hurricane on the beach today.  The onshore wind worked fiercely against the small waves, which had a hard time coming in to meet the shore.  A large flock of geese would rise and group, but making no headway would come down and stand  at the waters edge making a fuss, bill into the wind.  It was low tide and large clumps of dark seaweed were distributed in batches all over the sand, wrenched from their underwater world and left on the beach. Individual bits would occasionally blow off from a clump and tumble towards the water. Unlike a shell or sand dollar or smooth piece of driftwood, these clumps of organic matter were not inviting--they were dark, sticky and tangled.

But I was here to collect this seaweed, not stones or shells or driftwood. I dutifully inspected each clump and was astonished at the variety I found.  Although I could only affirm basic distinctions amidst the jumble, there were clearly an astonishing array of algae tangled together: some smooth, some bumpy, some bright green, most reddish brown, some frilly and some simple and flat with remarkable shapes.  I dumped a few clumps into my cooler bag. There was one in particular that I had an inkling was long and spikey but it was a tangle of dark green strands so I dumped it in with the others.

At home I separated out each sample seaweed, rinsed it under the tap and dropped it into a tub of salt water.  As soon as it hit the water, its rightful medium, it came to life--its form and color and translucent sensuality awakened. Pale pinks with textures mingled with bright greens and yellow oranges.  I found the green spikey and after rinsing it I tried to lay it out flat and find its form..  As I tried to tease out the delicate blades I experienced immense frustration.  Each blade would stick to my fingers or to each other. These ocean flora truly belong in water not air.  But my amazement grew as I persevered; the seemingly delicate connections between each razor-thin blade were powerfully strong and able to withstand immense force, and each blade had the serrated edges that engendered the blades themselves. While many seaweed blades clearly break easily at the ends, these were usually intact and fully shaped when I could unravel them.  I truly felt like I was unravelling a secret that few have seen before: the secret of Desmarestia ligulata or acid kelp.

The Beach Book is Out

The Beach Book is officially out.  There was a nice event at ZincDetails the other night and Beach: A Book of Treasure was on its pedestal amongst the other fun Chronicle books in a month long Pop-up Shop. The books fill the entry before you continue into the wonderland of Marimekko and other design-y and irresistible home objects in the Fillmore Street shop.  There are three prints up on the walls including the blue seaglass and all fit well.  The anticipation of summer is palpable.

I am looking forward to upcoming events,  going to the beach as often as possible and thinking about how art and science dovetail there.  Putting talks together is an opportunity to re-visit the imagery and make new connections. Bits and pieces of my thoughts will come up here.

Andrew made cinnamon buns for Mothers Day.  They were divine.

A Walk in the Canyon

After a couple of warmish days the pussy willows were a delicate cloud of white buds inviting closer inspection.  Depending on their orientation to the brief moments of sun we have had over the past week, the buds are either in full fuzz or just emerging.

These are some tumbled seamarbles.  The collection pic was sent by avid beach wanderers Kim and Dave who are lucky enough to live in Hawaii near the beach.  Kim's theory on the marbles is: "The elementary school is on the other side of the highway, then nothing but beach on the beach side. There are a few underground drains that flow into the ocean by the school. So, we think, based on the kind of marbles they are, that they are from way back in the day...kids playing marbles on the playground. I only find them certain times when the sand is all washed away and the rock piles are what's left. This past year, it was only one time that those rocks were exposed."  

What wonderful anthropological wrack combing.

Andrew's Favorite

This is Andrew's favorite. All of these scallops are from the Outer Banks of North Carolina (thank you Sharon Gilchrest O'Neill). The tiny ribbed clam is from Pawley's Island, South Carolina. I talk about sorting and how sorting builds the fundamental skills of science--observing, comparing organizing classifying. But "how we choose which objects to group together is ultimately a creative act, the work of the artist. The beach becomes the locus of art and science to dance together, to intermingle and connect."

This is all hard to think about when the dire news from the school district came out today about the drastic budget cuts heading our way. Superintendent Garcia also wrote an impassioned editorial in our Chronicle which was well spoken. I am working with a great group of Lowell parents working to raise awareness and raise much needed funds to supplement the decimated school budget next year. I had a thought today: Public school is no longer free. It is ridiculously cheap, but our legislatures and state governments are telling us that it is no longer free. We MUST put something into the pot to keep it alive. It might be $20 or $200 or $2,000, but it is not free. This is a sad state of affairs.

A New Book

I received two advanced copies of my new book yesterday afternoon. I happened to be home when the FedEx guy knocked at the door. I opened the yellow manila envelope and there was the book, a foreign object to me, the author who had slaved over each image, cut out cardboard to determine trim size and worked and reworked every aspect of the text, photographs and design of the book.

The book, a real book, is an amazing thing and until you hold it in your hands, you cannot really approximate what it will be like. It is a great and surprising moment.

My book, Beach: A Book of Treasure, is 7” high and 11” wide. Despite all my Indesign and Photoshop and pdf files, with their ever present rulers, I can only truly feel these dimensions now with the book in hand. The added length of the page (from my previous books) gives a delightful heft to the 144 pages as you flip through from front to back. The blue case color and the soft beige endpapers are cheery and soothing--something we could not be totally sure of despite the back and forths and changing and choosing of color chip--until the book is in hand.

So now the book and I are getting to know each other all over again (I feel like a Sesame Street character) but its true.

The best endorsement of the book to me so far is that Andrew (age 12) came home tired and hungry yesterday evening, but on seeing the book sitting on the entry table had to go through the entire thing, clearly captivated, before even coming to the dinner table. He then went through the entire book again after dinner. His favorite page is a spread late in the book of a mass of grey-ribbed scallops with a single, small, white clam shell for contrast.

What more could I want from a book?

Someone else is thinking about all those lost traps

Finally, someone is thinking about all the derelict traps left on the sea floor. (NYTimes Nov 27) I wrote about these for Beach: a Book of Treasure in relation to all the buoys found on the beach: they all were attached to something that is now lost, left on the ocean bottom to corrode. Thinking of all these lost traps reminds me of how I feel when I see a map of all the space-junk out in orbit around our earth. "It would be interesting to drain the ocean and see what's down there," said Holly Bamford, head of the Marine Debris Program at NOAA.

Which way do you coil?

Great Science Times this am. There is a nice description of sinistral and dextral coiling of shells and how they need a similar symmetry to mate. Sean Carroll is a great writer. I guess he is now going to write a column. Good for us all. Happy Birthday to "On the Origin of Species"

Compost on the scanner.

Finally I have scanned some compost. I hope to do a series of these. Can squeamishness be unlearned just by looking closely at something, getting fascinated by the details. The worms move while the scan is being made generating a rainbow effect, which I usually take out but might use to some effect someday.

Everyday there are articles in the paper about fresh produce. Saturday it was a lengthy op-ed piece by the Nieman Ranch lady. Ending her treatise on grass-fed beef was the forever familiar eat local, eat fresh, shop at your farmers market. I want to add a footnote to every instance this is mentioned (or add the tiny figure at the bottom of the cartoon with cynical commentary): please compost what you have to chop off and throw away. Compost the leftovers that are not cooked or go bad in your fridge...it is a complete cycle. There was also an article about neighborhood grocery stores selling more fresh fruits and vegetables instead of cookies and chips: YES this is terrific, but when will the same grocery store have compost pails for sale next to the produce with a tiny explanation of what to do??

Someday I hope.

Don't we all wish we had this much space for our compost bin. I have this exact same bin in a slightly different context: an urban back yard.

How to keep critters out: NO cooked food, no eggs, no bread, no meat, no rice...only the choppings from your vegies and fruit and again...all those coffee grinds mixed with leaves from the yard, a few newspapers, corn husks, vegies left in the fridge too long.

Bins: Amazon has a good selection. I will post some favorites. I will also address the east coaster dilemma of what to do when everything freezes....keep listening.

Compost Heaven

I found these lemon leaves in my compost bin quite a few years back, but they still resonate with the integrity of decay. The October 5 issue of The New Yorker (with the cat walking "on the Edge," by Gurbuz) has a letter to the editor by me. The gist of the letter is compost compost compost (in response to a piece by Elizabeth Kolbert). If there is something I feel as strongly about as the beach and the fate of our oceans, well, its composting. Somehow the frenzy of media attention on eating fresh fruits and vegetables and buying locally, hitting farmers markets or ordering a "box" is not accompanied by the requisite flip side: how to dispose of the tremendous amounts of resulting organic waste. Bulky carrot tops, chard stems, melon seeds, orange rinds, banana peels, coffee grinds and filters (I throw these in because we drink a lot of coffee and nothing helps the compost more), grape stems, less-than-perfect lettuce leaves...should not go in the regular garbage.

Unless you have a bunny (yes, we have one of these too) composting is the obvious answer and I am always surprised at meeting folks who can easily walk out their back door to their yard, and do not have a compost bin back there. This blog will address issues like keeping pests out and I can list favorite items that help, like my stainless countertop compost bucket (best gift ever!), where to find bins and findings from my favorite newsletters that come from the SF PUC (sfwater.org) and Sunset Scavenger (sfrecycling.com). Please add resources you like and comments and stories of your own.

Our first big storm yesterday has left everything wonderfully wet and the warm still air today smells of earth. With damp dead leaves from the plum tree added to the mix, the compost, being both moist and warm, is in heaven i.e. being super productive. Should go fishing with some of the worms.